


Colors of Life

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a joke... But that’s how everything started out with Gabriel. But this… this just crossed the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors of Life

It started out as a joke.

But that’s how everything started out with Gabriel. But this… _this_ just crossed the line. Yeah, sure when you’re a kid who doesn’t dream about flying? Even now Sam gets that geek face on and studies him with wonder.

“I’m a freak,” Dean growls as he stares at the younger Winchester and Bobby.

Ever since Gabriel had somehow boarded the ‘all aboard to your big break’ train, the dick (in Dean’s opinion) was making up for lost time; popping in on jobs (because life as a hunter is never over), on days with Bobby, and even when he was taking a damn shower! Yeah, sure Dean missed the guy… okay so he could have had a few… _chick flick moments_ in remembrance of the archangel but no one was to know about those. Let alone any of those possible _feelings_ for the dude.

Because Dean Winchester wasn’t into dudes….

Not even a little bit.

“What the hell did you do now?” Bobby drawled with a sigh. His fingers already reaching to a beer that had been neglected to be added to the collection growing in the fridge.

“I didn’t do anything! I just fucking woke up, stretched and ended up breaking a damn _window_ ,” Dean snarled, the new limbs ruffled with his growing frustration.

“Don’t get your feathers all in a bunch. Just call ‘im down here and get it taken care of,” Bobby rolled his eyes before taking a drink. He was getting too old for this shit.

Dean’s face soured, “I… I can’t.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna admit that you actually did something to warrant this then.” Dean scowled at his father figure.

“Do you know how to control them?” Sam finally voiced gesturing to his brothers new limbs.

“They’re fucking wings Sam. No I don’t know how to fucking use them. They just move on their own… like an annoying twitch that doesn’t go away.”

Sam stared at the wings, actually going so far as to touching the feathers. One could see that these wings were once the purest of whites, but during life was they’ve become dirtied—tainted. The once beautiful white feathers now dusted with grey, with red, green, and dark blue, orange, and brown, black and even to Dean’s horror… pink.

Dean’s four large, beautiful, and powerful wings were for life. Of his life, all his memories of all his emotions and experiences. And that’s why Dean hates this so much. Because he knew Sam knew his colour meanings—he was the girl of the family. He was the one that used to tell Dean growing up what to get girls because, and he quotes “a yellow rose is for friendship Dean.”

Bobby glares at the boy’s, “if you’re going to mess around with those things, go outside.  Away from the house before Dean breaks another window.”

And they do. Not without Dean spilling everything on the counters onto the floor.

This included the whiskey.

-

It took hours before Dean could stretch his wings out, fluidly and complete control. Flying, or any thoughts of the matter was nowhere close to coming into play. Sam had left with Bobby a while ago with news of a hunt. They wouldn’t tell Dean what it was, but they took his Baby. His _Baby!_

So there he was, sitting in Bobby’s living room on a kitchen chair because his _stupid_ wings wouldn’t let him sit on anything else without damaging another window. And because of these damn things he couldn’t even have a nice good old shot of liquor. “Fuck me,” he hissed digging his palms into his eye sockets.

He was stuck on phone duty.

And there wasn’t even a fucking phone call.

_Fuck._

“Well aren’t we being a drama queen today,” the angel who started it all grinned. His arrival sounding with the sound of a wing beat. He let out a whistle, “well aren’t you just a sight. I knew they would’ve been complex, but damn. It’s nearly a rainbow Dean-o.” 

The four great wings drooped, showing the human’s sadness. “Wings Gabriel, really?” was all the he replied with.

The archangel kneeled, “you always want to see mine,” he voiced. He sounded like a child who thought his crush wouldn’t like the gift he’d given them. “Wings aren’t all bad…”

The human groaned, “Gabe, that’s not what I meant and you know it. I could understand having two… but four? You made me an archangel—“

The angel’s nose nuzzled against his cheek, “just like me Dean-o.” The human hummed leaning back into the chair, his green eyes boring into hazel. They fell into a silence, neither wanting to break the sudden calm that fell over them. Dean sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “Oh don’t worry, they’ll wear off in a few days,” Gabriel grinned ruffling the hunter’s hair.

“A few days?!” Dean shouted, eyes snapping open while he gripped the angel’s shirt. “So I’m just going to be stuck with these things for ‘a few days’? What the hell? I can’t do anything with these!”

The angel grinned, “are you so sure about that?” his eyebrows wiggled with perverted glee.

“Gabe… no. No Gabe, get that look off your—“

He kissed him.

Gabriel fucking kissed him!

“What the fuck—“

“Stop talking Dean, you and I both know you want this. So shut up.”

 


End file.
